The Unfortunate Denouement of my Universe
by Kalon
Summary: So my father thinks it is a fantastic idea to ship me off to stay with my aunt, uncle and cousin, Len. FYI, it is not a fantastic idea. It will never be a fantastic idea. And I will never understand why he did it, because this is bad. This is really bad. This is the unfortunate denouement of my universe. ; RIN/LEN COUSINCEST.


**WARNING** INCEST. ARBITRARINESS. PURPOSEFUL AND UNPURPOSEFUL BOTCHED GRAMMAR AND COMPREHENSION. ATTENTION-SEEKING AUTHOR. That is all.

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_**THE UNFORTUNATE DENOUEMENT OF MY UNIVERSE**_

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"Maybe there's something you're afraid to say, or someone you're afraid to love, or somewhere you're afraid to go. It's gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt because it matters."

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**(BEFORE THE BEFORE)**

IT ALL INITIATES before we actually realise what is happening.

—I am ten. Len is ten. We are both cousins. I am absolutely positive on those things.

We are both identically unintelligent and curious, and we are under the influence of intoxicated adults (aka, our parents and other relatives). Neither of us have been exactly told the morals of life—but the exception of, 'treat your neighbour how you want them to treat you' and 'sharing is caring'. At the moment, we are both sitting on the lounge watching a movie we should probably not be watching and it is a decent hour into the night. It is completely silent, but the adults' laughter in the background, for they are gathered outside and getting extremely drunk on vodka and rum and scotch and wine. It's the annual family gathering; this time, at Len's house. Last year it was at grandpa's house. And the year before that; ours.

An advertisement for a new selection of toothpaste is running—'_Get the white, pearly teeth you've always wanted!_' the TV Voice chirps, '_Buy Colgate's White Wash 3000!_'—and Len is mocking the voice in falsetto. After it changes to an ad for a motorway show, he turns to me and says, "It sounds like some sorta futuristic invention—'_Buy Colgate's White Wash 3000!_'—don't you think?"

I nod once. "Yeah," I state. I don't like to say much.

"Uh-huh," Len utters, nodding as well. And then he turns away and we continue sitting in silence for about another two advertisements. The first advertisement after that is one showing a cereal brand—CoCo Pops—and the second, something about the sun and solar panels. Throughout these two ads, Len starts to fidget, glancing every several seconds at me briefly, before turning back to look at the television.

Finally, the movie comes back on, launching into a scene where the protagonist is arguing with a wedding receptionist. It's probably supposed to be funny, but I think it's rather cliché, so I don't laugh much.

Len is still fidgeting and it is very distracting. He isn't laughing either.

About two minutes into the scene, he turns back to me and declares, "I'm bored. Let's go to my room."

So we go to his room.

Len's room basically consists of a bed with plain, yellow sheets, and white walls and a wooden floor, and a cupboard and a duchess and a window and a door. It is very, very simple; as compared to mine, which is covered in pink and purple and frills and girly stuff like Barbie—I like Barbie. (Everyone says I look like Barbie, too, which is pretty cool. Sometimes Len likes to pretend he's Ken, because their names are quite similar.)

He sits on his bed and makes a noise of relief like grandpa does when he flops down onto the couch, and I laugh, because he pulls a goofy face while doing so. He's funny and pulls some of the best faces. I like Len and I think he is a cool cousin.

While banging his feet against the side of the bed, he pats the empty space beside him and gestures for me to sit. I silently walk over and sink onto the soft mattress next to him, and he casually slips an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into one of Len's infamous Special, But Very Bony and Tight Hugs. This does not feel weird. It feels nice. Len's hugs—despite being Very Bony and Tight, because he is rough and he is too skinny (like, skinnier than me. And I'm a girl!)—are very warm and loving and they smell of Len; the honey-and-milk soap and clean-sheet scent he always has.

"I really, really like you, Rin," he tells me, his chest reverberating against my ear.

"I really, really like you too, Len," I reply, but I am confused, because this is very random and weird, and unlike Len. He never tells me that he really, really likes me—only he tells me 'I love you,' when we say goodbye to each other. I know that is different from 'I really, really like you,' because I say, 'I love you,' to my mum, my dad, my aunt, my uncle and my other family members, but then again, I'm not sure. But I say it anyway, because I don't want to hurt Len's feelings.

Len tightens his arms around me. "I really love you."

"I really love you too."

And then he pulls away, puts his hands on both of my cheeks and kisses me on the lips.

At first, I am not sure what to do. We do kiss when we say hello and goodbye, but that's not on the lips, it's on the cheeks. Mum and Dad kiss on the lips, and Len's mum and dad kiss on the lips, and my older cousin kisses her boyfriend on the lips… so maybe that means Len and I should kiss on the lips? Yes, maybe that's what Len is doing. He's kissing me on the lips because everyone else does it too. So I kiss him back in the way that I believe I am kissing him back, though I am not sure how to do it, or if I should be doing this, or if Len is sure what he is doing.

The kiss is very hard and bizarre and on the borderline of wet, but I think it's supposed to be wet. I still have my eyes open, but I consider they're supposed to be closed like they do in movies, because Len has his eyes closed too. And then I wonder, am I supposed to be touching his face too? Am I supposed to open my mouth a little bit wider? How am I supposed to breathe? I think I am suffocating.

Len then pulls away after a while, and he is red in the face like rhubarb and he is breathing really, really deeply, like me. "I really, really like you," he repeats calmly, through his slight panting.

My mouth feels tingly and fuzzy and warm, and somehow I wish Len didn't stop, despite me suffocating, but then again, I think I am supposed to still keep breathing while I am kissing. "I really, really like you too."

And Len smiles really widely, like, _really_ widely—so wide I believe his mouth could rival the moon in size and brightness, and he asks, "Can we kiss again?"

I just nod because I don't cogitate I can say 'yes' properly, and he presses his lips against mine and we kiss again, until we hear footsteps coming from the hallway. Len then breaks away from me like I am on fire, and he jumps up and grabs a Hot Wheels car model from his duchess and at that very same moment, Len's older sister, Lily, walks in.

"Oh, there you two are," she says. Lily lets out a sigh of relief and sits down where Len was just sitting on the bed beside me. "What're you two doing in here? You better come downstairs before the adults get worried."

I am about to open my mouth and say Len and I were 'kissing', but Len quickly murmurs, "We were just about to play a game of hide and seek. I was showing Rin my car I got the other day."

And then I am about to argue with, "No he wasn't." but Len looks at me when Lily glances away from him and he shakes his head no, and Lily says, "Oh, cool. Well, Yuuma and I just finished playing on the Xbox, so why don't you guys go downstairs and continue the game for us?"

And Len nods, "Okay."

We go downstairs to the den to play the Xbox and when Lily leaves, Len reaches over to grab my hand. His hand is warm and it is a little bit larger than mine, so it is a bit like a blanket to my scrawny fingers. I look at him questioningly, because I think he wants to kiss again—although, we've kissed two times already—but he holds up his finger to his lips and says, "Our little secret."

And somehow, I just know he means that us kissing and really, really liking each other and Len's hand being a blanket is all a secret, and so I nod and we both 'pinkie-promise'.

The next day, when we are leaving for home, I start to wonder if Len was being serious about last night or not or whether he was just playing a game or something. And I feel sad, somehow, until Len pulls me to the side to hug me and whisper into my ear, "I really, really like you, Rin." And then I know he is serious, and that he really, really likes me, and that I really, really like him, and I suddenly feel really happy.

So I whisper back, "I really, really like you too." And he smiles that moon-like smile.

I notice Len's eyes are really beautiful.

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_Six years later_

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**(38 DAYS BEFORE THE DENOUEMENT)**

When someone says the word 'cousin', I automatically want to throw up.

Now, I have _nothing_ against cousins, I see nothing _wrong_ with having a cousin and cousins are pretty great and all, but… there's Len. And he's my cousin. Not my second cousin, or my step cousin, but my first cousin. And he is everything _but_ great.

I mean, I am honestly terrified of him. I'm sure he's a great guy, still (even though we haven't seen each other in half a decade), but the whole kissing and likey-likey stuff? Uh, no. No, no and _no_. That, there, is very much illegal. And it is so very much illegal that jail is very much involved. Therefore, I am very, very much horrified to have to do anything with him.

And I feel quite terrible for being that way, too. I mean, we used to keep in touch and stuff after he had moved away with my aunt and uncle to live on a farm or something like that for about two years straight, through email and the odd phone call, and our usual likey-likey stuff was carried on pretty thoroughly until we were about thirteen. Thirteen—that was when I stopped talking to him. That was when I discovered that what we were doing was _wrong_, both by religious standards _and_ moral standards. I stopped emailing him, I refused to talk to him; I cut ties off completely from him. I don't care if he hates me for doing that now; but I'm saving us both from getting into some deep, deep trouble. I'm saving our futures; our chances at life, the things we could be and the people we truly love.

It wasn't an intentional discovery, and no, we were not 'found out' by our parents or anything to be sending love letters over the internet. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time—or the right place at the right time, I guess—and that was it.

That was it.

I remember it being about half-past eight and I was in the kitchen doing chores, and Mum and Dad were in the lounge room, talking about something and watching the television. As I walked past the lounge room doorway to get to my room, I stopped to listen to the show on the TV. It was talking about a custom, somewhere in the world, that allows the arrangement of marriages with cousins. Since I was apparently head-over-heels in love with Len, I took deep interest in this. I'd never really heard of cousins marrying before, but I simply just snuffed that vital hint because a lot of people probably found their cousins gross or icky and therefore I believed it wasn't all that common. Not once had I thought it was because it was actually _illegal_.

After standing to the side and watching the show for about five minutes—they were currently interviewing one girl who didn't like the idea of having to be betrothed to her very own relative—my parents started to have a conversation that I accidentally overheard.

"This is absolutely repulsive," Dad commented.

"And it's not illegal over there?" Mum asked, sounding concerned. "Doesn't inbreeding increase the likeliness of disabilities and deformations in children? Isn't that child cruelty?"

I could feel a sick feeling growing in my stomach, as I remembered sending an email to Len yesterday, and how, in the email before that, he had asked if we would date when we were old enough and my reply was 'yes'. I thought about it being illegal, and the fact that if Len and I were to ever have children—if we managed to stay 'in love' for that long or whatever—that they would end up with ten toes and six eyes and about eight different mental disabilities. I personally felt awful. I was breaking the law—no, _we_, Len and I, were breaking the law. And my parents… I could imagine them being so disappointed, that I…

"Yes." Dad's voice had cut through my racing thoughts, "When I was a nurse, I remember dealing with a patient whose parents were brother and sister… I've never felt so disgusted yet pitiful for that child in my whole life. It is so sad."

I couldn't bear being there anymore. I had to leave. All my feelings—confusion, shock, shame—they were swirling and bubbling to my surface, and I've never felt so… so _immoral_ and frightened and embarrassed of myself in my whole life, that I ended up dashing to the bathroom to only puke up my dinner into the toilet. I remember standing up and looking into that mirror, and seeing _Len_, not me, and feeling absolutely dismayed. I wanted to die—no, I _deserved_ to die. This was wrong. This was all very, very wrong.

I decided that I couldn't take it anymore. I changed everything—my email, _anything_ Len could use to contact me but our landline number—and never did I look back again. I never went to read his emails, never chose to speak to Len on the phone when he asked for me—never never never.

But that was all in the past. I _should_ be able to handle seeing Len now, right? I don't understand why I am hyperventilating at the moment. I don't.

Okay, so let me explain something: It is the end-of-year break, I refuse to get a job and despite my family having a bit of a spat with the rest of the family (it's been this way since my grandfather had died five-something years ago, unsurprisingly), my dad thinks it is an utterly fantabulous idea to send me on a plane to see my aunt Karen, my uncle Davis and my cousin, Len. And no, I did not get a say in this arrangement. It was strictly, Dad's words exactly, "You are going and that is it." And I know not to argue with Dad, because he is very tenacious, almost like a fervent animal.

Thus, I am struggling to keep my cereal down while standing in the airport, waiting for Aunt Karen and Len to pick me up. Not to mention, I am sweating like a gorilla from every sweat gland on my body due to nerves, so I smell like a sauna. I'll tell you something; it's not fun. It's awful; and on a scale of one to ten of awfulness (one being borderline awful and ten being absolutely, positively freaking apocalyptic) this current situation can rate a 15.

I've already got my bag and stuff, and a lot of the other passengers on the same flight as me are long gone. I've been standing here for about fifteen minutes; I've texted Aunt Karen twice and I have not received any answer. I have Len's number (Dad gave me it last year, out of arbitrariness), but no way in hell am I texting him—unless I am about to be kidnapped or raped or something (but I highly doubt I can text while being hijacked or romped).

I spot a very familiar blonde lady up ahead, looking at me curiously. It only takes me after a few moments to process her features; short, blonde hair and aged, but beautiful, blue eyes—just like Len's—and I automatically suspect it is Aunt Karen. When she recognises me after scrutinising my face for a further ten seconds, she starts to wave somewhat madly, and I am definitely sure it is her, because Aunt Karen is slightly peculiar. In a good way, I mean.

She comes galloping over in her white heels with a big idiotic grin on her face and throws her arms around my neck quite viciously, like she hasn't seen me for years. Well, she hasn't. "Oh, Rin darling! My, I almost didn't recognise you! You have changed quite a lot," she gushes loudly into my left ear. "What a fine young lady you have become—gosh! Now I'll have competition in the house for once." Aunt Karen winks at me when we pull away, her eyes twinkling mischievously. You can tell Len and her are related. They share many qualities; looks and personality wise.

"It's, um, it's nice to see you too, uh…" I mumble, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. Yes, I am an awkward turtle. No, I do not like having to speak or participate in conversations, because I get quite tongue-tied and sound like a complete and utter idiot (which I am). That is that.

It takes me a millisecond to realise the antagonist is not present, although I had been told that Aunt Karen was most definitely dragging Len along with her, considering he is apparently a 'hermit'. When Dad told me this, I thought, 'Lovely, a cousin as a crab. Maybe I will grow a tail next and turn into sea foam.' Before thinking, 'I am doomed infinite times.'

I am doomed infinite times.

That is what comes to my head when a pair of hands cover my vision while Aunt Karen is asking me about my flight, as we start to sidle towards the airport doors. And when a voice says, "Guess who." I think, 'I am going to die.' Because that sounds slightly like what a murderer would say just before they catch their victim.

Anyway, since I am familiar with this and the said idiot of two paragraphs ago used to do this all the time, I just mutter in a very monotonous voice, "Len."

Truthfully, I am trying not to lose my breakfast and be an awkward turtle and hyperventilate all at the same time. But I am practically on the borderline of that, unless said idiot will remove his hands from my face. Then maybe I might calm down, but it all depends on what Len will say next—"Why have you been ignoring me for the past three years?" or "It's been forever since I've talked to you."

Either way, they both imply the secret message: I AM STILL CRAZY ABOUT YOU, RIN KAGAMINE, AND I OBVIOUSLY HAVE NOT RESEARCHED WHETHER OUR RELATIONSHIP IS LEGAL OR NOT, BECAUSE I AM THAT OF THE UNINTELLIGENT SPECIES OF HUMAN KIND; AKA, THE ASS-WIPES OF THIS CENTURY.

I think that is a very suitable message.

"Darn! You get me every time. Even after five years and all—God, are you sure you're not psychic?" Len jokes, stepping around into my line of vision so I can see him properly.

Whoa.

He looks attractive.

Wait, no he _does not_. He is your _cousin_, Rin, your _first cousin_. And you must not show sexual attraction towards his pheromones, because he is your _first cousin_ and you happen to be _related_ and that is _incest_ and also _illegal_. Therefore, Len's sudden growth spurt is disgusting. Len's eyes make you wish to be blind. Len's lean body makes you want to gag repulsively. Len's attractiveness is not attractive.

Still, trying to convince myself all of the above is not helping the bulk amount of blood rushing to my cheeks.

"It's, uh… It's pretty obvious, you know, since you do it almost every time you see m-me…" I murmur, looking down in an attempt to hide my red face. I think, 'Oh my God, I sound like a broken record. Why can't I just speak normally like a human? Stupid awkwardness.' Stupid awkwardness very much so. Sometimes, I feel a computer could talk more confidently than me.

_Oh wait_, they already can.

When I last saw Len, he was about eleven years old. I remember being ever-so-slightly taller than him, and I remember him complaining when we used to have mini-battles over who was the tallest. Suddenly, he's looming over me and I am slightly intimidated by his tallness—even though it's not specifically _that_ tall—it's just because I am actually quite short, due to my body's decision to snort a few years ago and say, 'No more growth spurts for you, Rin Kagamine!' Now I can officially be classified as an oversized dwarf. Ha. Ha. _Ha_. It's not funny.

Len pats me roughly on the back. "You know me too well, Rin Kagamine."

"I try," I murmur dryly. Then we kind of walk back to the car in silence, Len and I beside each other, and him just looking generally calm although he is walking next to his cousin whom he committed incest with several years ago. I still don't know whether he knows. But I have a feeling I'll find out soon, because I'm technically _supposed_ to. Blah. Well, whatever.

They still have the same, old car—a silver Jeep-a-thingamajig—I realise, as we approach the vehicle in the distance. After hauling my 20kg bag into the rear hatch, I jump into the backseats and feel almost relieved Len is sitting in the front and not next to me. Well, until he opens the other door and slides into the seat beside me. I try not to look at him like he's an axe murderer. But I think I do anyway, because his smile falters slightly and he asks, "Is there something on my face?"

I just turn red and mutter a hasty, "No. Sorry."

The car ride to Len's house is quiet and neither Len nor I look at each other once. That's how it should be. That's how it always should be.

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When we pull up into the garage, Aunt Karen turns to us and says, "Okay, kids, we're home. Len, will you help Rin with getting her luggage to her room?" Len nods once and responds with nothing, whereas I am having a mini aneurysm. He's escorting me to my room. He's escorting me to my room _alone_. And do you know what happens when a man and woman are in a room with a bed _alone?_ A lot of things happen. Just, the things I don't want happening to me.

Len grabs my suitcase from the back without asking me if I wanted to do it. I mean, I _could_ do it. Although my arms may look like they can snap off with the tiniest bit of weight lifting, and I am the size of a twelve year old, doesn't mean I can't do it myself. Okay, so maybe I am being a little bit dramatic about this, _but I just don't want him to come with me to my room_. No. No. _No._ Then he starts off to inside the house and I follow silently behind, gnawing at my bottom lip because… FREAKINGFRIGGITYFISH. _ARGH_.

The house is pretty huge, actually—everything is white and roundish and modern, and I'm stunned a little because they live in almost the middle of nowhere, so I was expecting some sort of shabby Queenslander because that's what I usually see when my family takes us out to more rural communities. Len leads me up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, to the room at the end on the right. He stops in the doorway and looks at me. "This is your room." he states the obvious.

I peer around him and look at the neat, almost-empty room. It's rather plain—white walls, a window, the usual furniture and a queen-sized bed with a floral-patterned bed spread. I then realise how mighty awkward this is, with Len just standing there silently and watching me, so I clear my throat and announce, "Cool." Just to establish that, '_Okay, I've seen my room. You can leave me alone now._'

"Yeah?" he responds, stepping in and placing my suitcase to the side, before digging his hands into his pockets. "I'm jealous—you have the comfy bed."

"The comfy bed?" I raise my eyebrows, "Uh, w-why? What's so special about mine?"

Len flops down onto the mattress and lets out this _aahh_ sound, spreading his arms and legs out so he covers at least 80% of the bed top. "Has the best mattress _ever_," he breathes out with a grin. "And also, my bed is just a single bed. It sucks."

I stay to the side, trying to keep clear of Len and the bed, because Len and beds just don't go down well with me. "Oh."

"Yeah." He chuckles, sitting up. He then pats the bed beside him and smiles warmly when he notices how reluctant I am to getting within a metre distance of him. "I'm being serious, come try it out."

I reach up nervously to knot my fingers into the back of my hair, shifting my weight to the other leg. "Um…" I don't really want to say, 'I'll try it if you move,' but then I can't bring myself to try it and… ugh. "I'll try um, later," I murmur, scuffing my feet at the carpet.

Len then stops smiling, like realisation dawns on him or something. He stands up and fixes the sheets. "Sorry. I just… yeah. Sorry," he says hastily, gaze on the wall behind me, unable to look me in the eye. "I… um… I should let you… you know, unpack. Get snuggly. Whatever girls do." He forces an awkward laugh, before sidling off to the door. He pauses in the doorway to look at me again, though. "Uh, if you need help or anything, just give me a shout, since my bedroom is basically across the hall."

I nod once and look down, not wanting to meet his gaze. "Yeah. I will. Thanks."

He disappears, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Oh good God.

What am I doing? What am I _doing?_ I shake my head to knock some sense into me, breathing out through my mouth. Jesus, I just… ack. Running my fingers through my hair, I go sit on the edge of the bed, and get a whiff Len's deodorant from him being here previously.

…Seriously?

You have got to be kidding me. Now I'm going to have to smell Len while I sleep.

I just… what was my dad thinking when he planned this? This is torture. This is terrible. I hate this place already. I just want to go home. I contemplate on grabbing my phone, texting my mum and making a run for it, but I just stare at my hands. Why can't things be normal? Why can't… _I_ be normal? I just… I can't do this. I feel like I'm going to die. Having Len as a cousin is just… not good. Not good not good not good. Not good at _all_. Where is at least a bit of sanity when you need it?

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When I think I've unpacked and repacked and unpacked my bag several times into the in-built wardrobe, I finally sum up the courage to go downstairs. Mainly because I have to pee.

Aunt Karen is in lounge room ironing and watching the television—the show _Sex and the City_ is on—and the sounds aren't very relaxing for my nerves, since I've got this thing where I'm expecting Len to teleport out of nowhere and jump me. I practically have a heart attack when the curtain hanging over a window moves and a cat rushes past, because I think it's Len. But he's nowhere to be found, which is okay, because he's probably in his room minding his own business, and not wanting to follow me around like a lost puppy, begging for some sort of lovey-dovey cousin-incest scenario to happen.

Yeah. Sorry. No.

Aunt Karen smiles when she sees me, corners of her baby-blue eyes crinkling with old age. "You finished packing, hun?" she asks.

"Oh, um, yeah." I sink down onto the lounge chair, its leather coat smooth and cool against my skin, "Can you tell me where the bathroom is?"

She pauses. "Len didn't tell you?"

"No?" Was he supposed to tell me?

She resumes ironing and nods slowly. "Oh… I guess I didn't tell him to anyway. Well, if you go past the staircase at the end of the hall, it should be there on your left," she explains airily, gesturing in the direction for the stairs, which I came down just previously.

"Okay, thanks," I say, forcing a smile although my stomach is full of battling pigeons—rather than the clichéd butterflies. I stand and meander out of the room, just at the right moment for Len to come stalking down the stairs. Oh, whoop-de-doo. Just my luck. But he doesn't seem to notice me, so I dodge and quickly escape to the bathroom before we have another one of those… awkward conversations again. Ugh. I hate this too much.

When I come back down the hall, wiping my hands on my shorts, I hear Aunt Karen saying from the kitchen, "Len, don't close the refrigerator with your foot. It's disgusting and you put dirt marks everywhere—do you think Rin's mother lets her do that? Keep a good representation of yourself. We don't want her going back to her parents and telling them how feral we are."

I almost laugh aloud, because that sounds an awful lot like my own mother. She gave me this half-hour lecture on the way to the airport about having good manners, saying please and thank you, etc., and it was driving me slightly insane, since I've heard it at least fifty times before.

Len replies with, "_Ugghhhhhh_. How else do you expect me to close it when my hands are full? What? With my eyebrow?"

"_Len_," Aunt Karen just warns with a venomous tone. "Don't push my buttons."

Len is in the middle of mocking her under his breath when I enter the kitchen. He's at the bench making a sandwich and Aunt Karen is sitting at the counter, reading a _Women's Weekly _magazine. He turns slightly red when he realises I had just heard him, and Aunt Karen just shoots him this look, which technically means, _I'll kill you later_.

"Um, Rin," he squeaks. "Did you want some lunch?"

I shuffle to the opposite side of the bench, keeping my distance. "Oh," I say, eyeing the sandwich—which I have to admit, looks pretty tasty (and better than my gourmet peanut butter sandwiches)—"Yes please."

A smile breaks across his face, like he's over the moon about having to make me lunch. "What do you want on it?" he asks, "Ham, chicken, cheese, lettuce, beetroot, tomato…?" He trails off, frowning. "Does ham, cheese, lettuce and beetroot sound okay?" Wait, he still remembers I hate tomato? (Well, I probably would too, considering I chucked epileptic fits so many times when I was given a serving of tomato.)

"Um, yeah, sure. Thanks," I respond, trying to stop myself from smiling—but I still do, because, well, _he remembers_ and ugh. Oh my God. What am I doing? Sure. It's a sandwich. I don't understand because _whatever_. Len, my cousin, is making me a sandwich. Len, my cousin, remembers I dislike tomato immensely. _Who cares?_ It's just… stupid stupid _STUPID_. Incest, Rin, this is _incest!_

While I'm mentally screaming at myself, Len pushes the made sandwich across the counter towards me, before grabbing his own and sinking into the seat beside me. When I show no signs of movement, he nudges me. "Dig in."

"Oh, right." I sit down, not liking the idea that we're so… close. Again. Ugh. All of a sudden I'm not hungry and I really hate the idea of having to eat… a Len-made sandwich, but I still find myself fumbling for the bread and picking it up and directing it to my mouth. Even when I bite into it, and it tastes _amazing_, it's still difficult to swallow, as it gathers up at the back of my mouth and goes down my throat in a lump, which settles rock hard in my stomach. It feels like Len is watching me, watching my every movement, watching my reactions. He isn't, though. He's eating his own sandwich silently, staring in the opposite direction—out the window.

Aunt Karen's voice startles me out of my daze, where I realise I had been ogling at Len for the last five minutes. "So, what do you want for dinner, kids?" she asks. Len's gaze flickers back to me, as if he's expecting me to answer—but I can't, I'm currently choking slightly on the sandwich.

"Oh, um… maybe Rin has an idea…" he replies slowly.

I finally gulp down the food. "I'm r-really not bothered," I choke out, looking at my hands. "Really."

"Well, we have that chicken and chips shop down the road, or we could make some soup or something…" Aunt Karen starts to list things, and I realise I'm really not listening… like, at all. So when she and Len both turn to stare at me, expecting me to state what I want, I just gawk helplessly.

"Um…" I chew my bottom lip, "Um… I'm seriously not worried—just… whatever's easiest is fine with me."

"How about chicken and chips?" Len suggests.

"Um, okay."

Aunt Karen raises her eyebrow. "You want chicken and chips?"

I nod once.

"Well then, how about you two—when the time is ready—go down to the shop and get it? It's a couple of minutes' walk. Not much." Suddenly there's a lump in my throat again and although I'm dying to say I changed my mind to avoid having to go with _Len_, _alone_, I can't say anything at all. So I just nod again, with Len, and Aunt Karen smiles. "Okay, I'll let you two know."

I honestly wouldn't mind the ceiling caving in on me right now.

Honestly.

…

Len goes back to his room after lunch and I stay downstairs for the rest of the afternoon, watching a _Sex and the City_ marathon run on the television, though it makes me feel really awkward because Aunt Karen is sitting with me, watching it too, and that is just… _weird_. Though I keep reminding myself, _at least it's not Len_, and then I remember the chicken and chips, and then I start to feel sick, and ugh. This sucks. This sucks so much.

I can't help but break out into a human-waterfall of perspiration when the time comes and I'm waiting for Len to slip on his shoes or whatever. It's silent. It's awkward. And when we set off, it's even more silent and awkward, and I can't look up from my orange sandals once because I just feel like if I see Len, I'll cave and run away. I can't even look him in the eyes. I just can't.

Len clears his throat after a while, brushing his fingers through his hair. "So… how're you going at school?" he inquires.

"Oh," I say. "Good. And you?"

He shrugs, laughing a bit. "…Yeah. It's school. It's school and you know what I'm like when it comes to things like that."

"I thought you were smart?" I think aloud, not intentionally meaning to say that. He doesn't seem offended or anything though.

"Well, yeah—I'm not dumb or anything, but… I just really hate school." He scuffs his flip-flops at the bitumen, at a loose rock that scatters away.

"Don't we all?" I ask quietly, looking up briefly to see his expression. He's smiling slightly, both hands behind his head.

"Don't us all," he agrees. "Anyway, got any idea of what you want to be when you grow up?" He looks back at me, our gazes connecting for a millisecond, before I look away—my heart beginning to pulse rapidly in my chest, my face turning to the shade of crimson.

I rub the back of my neck, ducking behind my hair. "Alive?" I offer shakily, "I really have no idea. I like music and stuff, but… I can't see myself doing anything _in _that genre."

Len inhales, "Yeah. Yeah, I see what you mean—the music industry is pretty… hard."

Then we both fall into a silence, because I just don't feel like talking anymore, and I think Len feels the same. It's like that for the rest of the trip to and from the shop, and even when we get back to his house, I still can't look him in the eye. Not even over dinner.

(If anything more, the walk wasn't 'a couple of minutes'. It was more like, almost an hour. I think Aunt Karen was understating to bribe us into going. Well, whatever.)

I stay in my room for most of the night afterwards, after saying hello to my uncle whom just arrived home from work. It's only when I go to the bathroom to clean my teeth and say my goodnights to everyone that I look at Len. He happens to be in the bathroom as well, teeth-cleaning, his hair still damp from his shower earlier, dressed only in a pair of boxers and nothing else. "Oh," I say faintly when I reach the doorway and notice him leaning over the sink. He looks up at me. "Sorry, I'll wait."

I go to walk off quickly before he can stop me, but he beats me to it. "No, no," he garbles hastily through his toothpaste-filled mouth. "No, it's okay. I'm almost done."

So I sidle back into the bathroom and, without taking my gaze away from the floor, I start to clean my teeth in silence. And it's like that the whole time. Just silence. And I wonder how I can survive this summer, with all this awkwardness and silence and Len being everywhere, all the time. I just… I don't think I can do this. But I can't escape. Maybe I'll just have to… talk with Len about everything for once, just get it cleared up. Maybe that'll make things easier.

When I finish cleaning my teeth, I turn and nearly have heart failure as Len is leaning against the doorway, waiting for me with both arms folded over his chest. "W-what's wrong?" I start fiddling with the hem of my shirt nervously. So many immoral thoughts are rushing through my head right now.

Len shrugs. "Just wanted to say goodnight," he responds calmly. "Why? Did you think I was going to get angry at you or something?" He smiles as he steps closer.

I swallow. "Uh, um, _no_… just…" I pause, looking to the side, "Goodnight?"

Then he does the last thing I wanted to him to do.

No, he doesn't kiss me, though I think for a split second he's going to. Instead he leans in, his tangy deodorant overwhelming me, and wraps his lean arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a warm embrace. Len's embrace. Oh. _Oh._ Well, shit.

I'm stiff, I can't move; frozen solid in shock. First of all, it's not Very Bony and Tight, rather just Warm, Squishy and Totally Awkward. Second of all, it's a little bit startling. Okay, a whole lot startling—I mean, Len is hugging me. _Len is hugging me_. Why am I not having a heart attack? I should be having a heart attack. This is wrong. This is very wrong. What am I doing?

I'm still in the same, unmoving position when he pulls away and murmurs, "Night, Rin." His hot, minty breath hits my face, his blue eyes boring into mine. His fingers—though he does this almost unnoticeably—trail down my arms quickly, the tips brushing against the surface of my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. It's like I've been pulled into some trance where I see and feel Len—and only Len.

I can only burble a weak, "Goodnight." But I'm not even so sure myself if I said it. Or if it was even decipherable. Or anything. He smiles at me with the moon-like grin he usually has, a deep affection present in his eyes, before he turns and walks out without another word.

And then reality comes crashing down.

And I feel like crying for some strange reason.

Why did it have to be me? Why did it have to be Len? Why are we like this? Why am I this way? Sometimes I just don't know the answers myself.

Sometimes I wonder why these things just happen, why these things just happen in my universe.

* * *

**Author note** well, yeah.

I've rewritten this story like, a couple of a trillion times, and I'm not even sure if I'm satisfied with something like this but, YOU KNOW, YOLO. So… yes. I know there are people who are thinking, '_EEEUUUUUUUWWWWWW_' and shaking their heads and going _no, no, I will never read this again_, and yes, I am sorry, but this is how the story is going to go. I mainly thought of this kind of story because I don't think I've seen a cousincest RinxLen fic on FF so… I… did one myself? Oh, and I do advise, the rating _might_ change. I'm not sure. IT DEPENDS ON HOW I AM FEELING. I mean, I don't even know if I can write… erotic stuff… _insert moment of self-pity here_. (Actually, I'm not that sad about it… but it would be an accomplishment—a really weird kind of accomplishment, but whatever.)

If you were wondering why the writing style changes a little bit (not at the start when Rin was 10—that style was intentional. You know. The way people think varies as they get older) in the middle of the chapter-thing, it's because I have been working on this over a period of like, three-or-something months, on and off, and so my writing style probably changes slightly. I tried not to make it that way, but… Sorry guys.

Anyway, I hate homework, and especially English homework_._ _Sobbing all over keyboard dramatically_.

Yeah, so… reviews, please? Critiques/ideas? GUYS. I LOVE REVIEWS. SO PLEASE. SHARING IS CARING.

(THE QUOTE AT THE BEGINNING BELONGS TO JOHN GREEN. _ALL HAIL JOHN GREEN._)

**I totally edited this on the 18.2.13, because yeah.**


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